^^RENCII CHATEAU 



I 



♦» * 



MIRIAM IRENE KIMBALL 



mm^ 




Class 
Book 



Copyright 1^?. 



JC33 

,7 



COPWIGHT DEPOSIT. 




APPROACH TO THE CHAteAU DE SOISY 



AT A 

FRENCH CHATEAU 



BY 
MIRIAM IRENE KIMBALL 



ILLUSTRATED 



PRINTED FOR 

PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION 



1\0f 



^6 



COPTRIGHT, 1915 
BT 

MIRIAM IRENE KIMBALL 



JUL 23 1915 
©CI,A4n6S38 



DEDICATED 

TO 



THE CHATEAU PEOPLE. AND MY TRAVELING COMPANIONS 
OF THE SUMMER OF 1913. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Arrival 5 

II. In the Home 16 

III. The Chateau's History 35 

IV. At the Lavoir 42 

V. Ernest and His Family 48 

VI. Favorite Walks 52 

VII. Market Day at Corbeil 63 

yill. Barnum's Great Cinema 69 

IX. Day Dreams 77 

X. The Departure 82 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 

PAGE 

Approach to the Chateau de Soisy. . . Frontispiece y 

The Broad Open Lawn, Bordered by Grand Old 

Trees , 6*^ 

The Tennis Ground 8 ^ 

Along Beautiful Shady Ways lOv^ 

The Kiosque 14 • 

The Garden Gate 16 ^ 

A Bit of the Garden 18"^ . 

The Main Walk of the Garden 20 

A Delightful Family Circle 22 «^ 

Outdoor Life 24 -^ 

Playful Pranks 26 > 

Tout le Monde Had Tea in the Park 28 1 

Scotland, England, France, Switzerland and 

America 30 

Charming Juliette and Her Romeo 32 '^ 

The Long Perron 34 "^ 

Rene and Eric 36 v 

Inner Facade of the Chateau 38 '. 

Notre Dame de Soisy-sous-Etiolles 40 • 

The Lavoir 42 v/ 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 
PAGE 



On the Banks op the Seine 44 • 

About His Accustomed Duties 48 ■ 

Taken Into the Queer-looking Box 50 "^ 

To the River Seine 52 ^ 

Stacks of Wheat by the Roadside 54 - 

Carrefour du Chene 56 

Breaking Up Stone 58 » 

A Quaint and Time-worn Street 60 ^ 

The Station of Evry-Petit-Bourg 62- 

Everything Was There for Sale 64 

The Old Church of St. Germain 66 • 

A Fine Old Gateway of the Twelfth Century 68 ^ 

One Representation Only 70 

The Delightful Old Chateau 76 

A Corner of the Grand Salon 78 ' 

The One-time Infant Now an Aged Man 80 

For a Good Time and a Holiday 82 

Kindly Wished Us au Revoir 84 

Quite at Home 86 < 



ATA FRENCH CHATEAU 



CHAPTER I 
The Arrival 

It was a beautiful afternoon on the twenty- 
eighth of July that Billie and I arrived at 
the Chateau de Soisy. We had come by train 
from Paris to the little station of Evry-Petit- 
Bourg, and had then take a bus (of the 
springless kind) for Soisy-sous-EtioUes, in a 
short time arriving at the great iron gate of 
the Chateau. 

We had no sooner come to the full stop 
than we noticed the warning at the entrance, 
PRENEZ garde AUX CHIENS, which we, at first, 
thought looked not hospitable, the more so, 
inasmuch as it was emphasized by a succession 
of discordant vocal notes from the wide throat 

5 



6 At a French Chateau 

of the Danish Laura. However, we soon 
found we had nothing to fear; for, im- 
mediately we had been put down, the gardener 
and gatekeeper, whose lodge is at the left just 
inside the porte, smilingly swung open the 
gate, causing a bell attached to it to ring. The 
sound brought the housekeeper, Madame R., 
on the run, out to meet us. Then Madame at 
once told us such a lot of nice things (her looks 
indicated that; I did not catch the words), in 
a perfect rivulet of such fluent, babbling, gush- 
ing) gurgling, rippling articulations as no 
other than the French tongue can produce, — 
at the same time conducting us across the 
courtyard towards the Chateau. 

Just inside the main entrance stood our 
sweet arid charming Madame Williamson- 
de-Visme, with her eldest son, a little lad of 
five years, to bid us welcome. Le petit 
garcon, with true French hospitality, smil- 
ingly held up his little hand to shake, saying, 
as he did so, '^ Soyez la bienvenue/' By 
this time we had come to feel that it was not 
necessary to beware even of the dog, for, as 
soon as she had become convinced that we 
were friends and not foes, Laura had peace- 



At a French Chateau 7 

ably followed us from the gate to the steps, 
evidently having adopted us into the family 
and feeling bound thenceforth to protect us. 
Laura, although a most valuable watch dog, 
never makes the mistake of showing any 
hostility towards those who really belong at 
the Chateau. 

We were immediately shown to our rooms, 
the way leading up two flights of winding 
stairs, through narrow halls with stone floors, 
a step upward, a few steps forward, then a 
step downward, a turn to the left, then to the 
right, etc. until we had literally wound our 
way to our chambres a coucher. 

At first I scarcely noticed my room, or 
whether I had bed, mirror, or washbowl; for 
the open casement disclosed so charming a 
view, and the winds brought such sweet sound 
and breath from the neighborly trees, that for 
the moment my attention was engrossed. As 
soon as I had entered the door, I could see 
the broad open lawn, bordered by grand old 
trees, stretching away up a slight rise towards 
what I concluded must be some sort of play- 
ground, for in that direction it was quite evi- 
dent some young men were enjoying a game. 



8 ^t a French Chateau 

(My guess, that it was tennis, afterward 
proved to be correct). At the left, peeping 
from beneath a clump of trees, showed an 
ancient fountain basin, now out of use. The 
few steps necessary to bring me to my window 
disclosed in the foreground near the inner 
fagade of the Chateau two large beds of 
begonias, then at their best, which gave color 
to the scene. But better than the lawn, the 
trees, the flowers, and the breath of perfume, 
better than the rustling of leaves and the song 
of birds, was the sight of a bevy of lovely 
girls, an animated group, sitting in the shade 
of a fine old tree, gleefully and enthusias- 
tically conversing in the French tongue, 
though perhaps in some cases with a rather 
American manner. 

A second look around my room revealed 
the fact that I had everything needful for my 
comfort. I felt at home at once; and, after 
unpacking mes effets and arranging them in 
convenient order, I sought out Billie (he had 
not made quite so many turnings as I had), 
for I wanted him to explore with me the 
mysteries of this new delight. He w^as not so 
enthusiastic as I, scarcely hopeful, I thought. 



!At a French Chateau 9 

" Auntie," said he, " I don't believe I shall 
want to stay here more than a day or two. I 
think I shall go on to London, do the place in 
three or four days, and then see if I can't get 
an earlier sailing for America.'' 

"Why?" I questioned. 

" Well, I don't feel at home here," he re- 
plied, as though that he do so were the all im- 
portant matter to be considered. " I don't like 
my room. It's awfully small, has no bath, 
no electric light — not even gas. Besides, I 
can't speak a word of French, and they won't 
let you talk anything else here. How am I 
ever going to make them know what I want? 
How am I going to get enough to eat? That's 
what I'd like to know." 

"There, there!" I answered. "Don't 
worry. I'll help you at meals, and you'll know 
how to speak some French for yourself before 
many days. And think of it, Billie! We're 
in an old, old Chateau built in 1650, and " — 

" What do I care about that? " he growled. 

Paying no heed to the interruption, I went 
on. " It isn't a hotel. It isn't a boarding- 
house even. It's just a lovely old French 
home; and the less it is like anything that I 



lo At a French Chateau 

have ever seen, the better I shall like it. 
Electric lights! not for me! I hope we shall 
use the candles or those funny old oil lamps 
we have in our rooms. Why, Fm just wild 
with delight over it all, even before IVe seen 
anything scarcely." 

The only response I received was a deep- 
toned, '^ Curses!" 

Nevertheless, Billie condescended to take a 
walk with me in the Chateau park, a small 
portion of which I had seen from my window. 
And such a walk as it was, — under the grand- 
est of old trees, along beautiful shady ways, by 
winding by-paths bordered with box hedges, 
leading up to little secluded bowers, again 
to descend into the main path. Then there 
was everywhere the glossiest of ivy, climbing 
tree trunks and stone walls, mantling the 
ground; water, melodiously trickling through 
cement troughs to seek some pool ; high stone 
walls, hard-looking stone benches, and mys- 
terious-looking little stone houses, close to the 
formidable stone walls. What were all these 
tiny stone buildings, and to what would they 
lead? To each and every one I said mentally, 
** ril see you again." 



At a French Chateau ii 

We had just come to an open space looking 
out on the tennis ground when we met Mon- 
sieur Williamson-de-Visme, with cordiality 
written all over his face. After greeting us 
kindly, he explained some of the customs of 
the house. We were to have our petit dejeuner 
(little breakfast) about eight o'clock; our 
dejeuner (or real breakfast) at twelve; tea at 
four; and diner (dinner) at seven. It was at 
that moment time for afternoon tea, and we 
went into the large salle a manger for our first 
meal at the Chateau. It consisted of jelly 
sandwiches and tea, the sandwiches set on the 
table in large baskets, one at each end of the 
table. This I found to be the customary after- 
noon tea. 

Then I went on a long walk into the coun- 
try with the housekeeper and some of the 
girls, to whom I had been introduced at tea. 
(Billie did not care to go; he could walk in 
the country most anywhere.) I think I was 
not over and above entertaining that after- 
noon; but as Madame R. never lacks for 
words, the conversation did not lag. How- 
ever, I did the best I could with my limited 
vocabulary and laughed with the rest. In the 



ii2 !At a French Chateau 

laugh French and Anglo Saxon meet on com- 
mon ground, for the laugh is the same in all 
languages. Everybody understands that 
either you are pleased or else you wish people 
to think that you are pleased. Not so with 
language. I confess to having had consider- 
able sympathy with Billie one day at dinner, 
when, throwing to the winds all restraint, he 
blurted out to the pretty demoiselle at his side, 
" ril take your word for it, you probably know 
what you are talking about; but really I 
don't grasp you." On our return we met some 
of the young men just coming back from a 
swim in the Seine, Billie among them. He 
was, to all appearance, getting interested. 

The 6 : 30 bell had just rung and we went 
in to dress for dinner. When the dinner bell 
sounded at 7 : 00, we went to the big salon, 
where we were introduced to those of the 
family whom we had not already met. Every- 
body was cordial. As soon as all had assem- 
bled, Madame W. arose and led the way to 
the salle a manger. Fourteen persons sat down 
at the long table, most of them young men 
and women of the prep school and college age, 
Monsieur and Madame W. occupying the 



At a French Chateau 13 

places at the center of the long sides. There 
were two serving maids. One passed the food 
first to Madame W. and then along to the 
right until she had served half way around 
the table. The other served Monsieur W. and 
then to his right until she came around to 
where Madame sat. The first course was 
soup; the second, most delicious creamed 
stringed beans; the third, some sort of roast; 
and the fourth, cake and jam, the cake cut in 
narrow strips and piled up on the plates in the 
manner of a cob house. Everything except the 
soup was served twice, the maids always carry- 
ing the dishes back to the kitchen to be kept 
hot for the second serving and returning only 
on the stroke of the hostess's bell. 

All who could took a lively part in the con- 
versation. I observed then, as I observed 
afterward, that the chief business of the meal 
seemed to be of a social nature, the eating 
secondary. No one expressed any pleasure or 
any displeasure in what was passed him. In- 
deed, I might have felt that the eating meant 
nothing to them were it not for the fact that 
most of them helped themselves twice of each 
course offered, and rather bounteously, if 



ti4 !At a French Chateau 

mechanically, never, however, letting helping 
or eating interfere with the flow of conversa- 
tion. 

There were two decanters of wine on the 
table, and six or eight water bottles distrib- 
uted at equal intervals. For the latter of 
these I was truly thankful, as it is not always 
easy to get water to drink while traveling in 
Europe; and one is conspicuous rather for not 
drinking wine than for drinking it. But 
whether you drank it or not was apparently 
not observed at the Chateau. Indeed, Madame 
W. told me afterward that neither Monsieur 
W. nor herself care for wine, and that much 
less wine is drunk in France in families of 
the better class than formerly. 

I went to my room early that night with the 
thought that we had been suflSciently wel- 
comed. More than that we had passed the 
initiation and now belonged. Billie was to 
study French conversation and I to experi- 
ence real French home life of the better sort, 
and more or less intimately study country life 
and customs away from " gay Paris." 

I felt positive that we had come to the right 
place and that both Billie and I should there 



o 

en 



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I 



!At a French Chateau 15 

find content and happiness. There was har- 
mony in the atmosphere, a harmony that could 
be plainly felt. '^ It is the atmosphere of love, 
if I mistake not," thought I ; " and what is that 
but the atmosphere of God, for ^ God is 
Love.' " This, my first impression, was not a 
false one, for time brought the proof of its 
truth. 



CHAPTER II 
In the Home 

The petit dejeuner at the Chateau consists 
of bread and butter, confiture (jam), and 
chocolate or coffee, — though I believe the 
coffee used in Europe is commonly a kind of 
chicory roasted, but often, especially in 
France, very palatable. The Scotch lad in our 
midst, I am sure, sighed for his porridge. As 
for myself, a glass of ice-v^ater, a cup of real 
coffee with cream, and a doughnut or tv^o 
would have suited all right; but then, — one 
does not expect an American breakfast in 
France, and, in truth, one would not v^ish it. 
It is better to take '' the little breakfast " for 
what it is, just an earnest of that to come. 
Amends will be made at the dejeuner. 

I made the tour of the park with Madame 
W., just after breakfast, my first morning at 

16 





V 

V 

* 






r ^ 






^^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 


• 

1 


i 





THE GARDEN GATE. 



At a French Chateau 17 

the Chateau. We took the turn to the left, 
which leads past the aviary, now the home of 
two lone pheasants; the lavoir, where the 
family washings are done; and the kiosque, a 
picturesque little round summer house with 
thatched roof, — diverging a bit now and then 
to follow a winding path or to rest for a little 
on one of the old stone seats. Passing the 
tennis grounds and la balangoire du cedre 
(cedar swing) , with its fair occupant, we came 
around to the garden gate, almost having made 
the circuit back to the Chateau. The faith- 
ful Laura was there, either to guard the gate 
or to wait for the coming of Ernest, the 
gardener, of whom she is a constant com- 
panion. 

We stepped inside the garden, a large and 
flourishing one, teeming with all sorts of fruits 
and vegetables. The main walk, which passes 
through the center of the garden its entire 
length, is cut by two ancient fountain basins, 
and bordered on both sides by apple trees, 
then laden with half-grown fruit. None of 
these trees were more than a foot and a half 
high, for, instead of being allowed to shoot 
up into the air, they had been trained to run 



1 8 At a French Chateau 

along trellises, thus forming a sort of hedge 
as a border to the path. " Trees of this kind 
bear much more fruit," said Madame W., 
" when thus trained." 

'^ Certainly there is no difficulty in gather- 
ing it," I answered; " ladders are unnecessary 
and fruit is not injured by being shaken from 
the tree." 

After the garden, we called at the drying 
house and then for some time we watched the 
nine fat ducks as they waddled or swam about, 
with their incessant quoiF quoi? good French 
as far as it goes, though comprising a vocab- 
ulary rather limited in scope. 

As we emerged into the court at the front 
of the Chateau, we met Billie. '^ I wish, 
ma chere Tante/' said he, '^ that you would 
telegraph to London for my trunk, and have it 
hurried right along. I think I'll stay awhile, 
and I want my tennis shoes and racquet." 
Billie was beginning to feel at home. He was 
also beginning to speak French. 

" Very well, Billie," I responded, ^' we may 
as well go around to Monsieur W.'s office at 
once and attend to it," this with considerable 
alacrity on my part, for I was relieved to 



At a French Chateau 19 

know that I shouldn't have to waste any more 
of my hitherto non-persuasive powers on 
Billie, to get him to see things as I saw them. 

It was at that time a half hour before de- 
jeuner, and a maid emerged from the dining- 
room and rang a bell suspended on the house 
just outside the door. 

'' Quite an idea, having that on the outside 
of the house; you can hear it all over the 
park," remarked Billie, evidently no longer 
sighing for modern hotel conveniences. 

''Yes, isn't it?" I answered, "but that 
means that we must get ready for dejeuner/' 

" It sure does ; and a welcome sound it is. 
I'm as hungry as a bear. Auntie, in spite of 
the fact that I have been eating crackers and 
cheese nearly all the forenoon. But say, 
Auntie! You can get dandy little cream 
cheeses just across from the gate, in that funny 
little store where they sell everything most." 

Twenty minutes later we were both in the 
salon waiting the second ringing of the bell, 
and Madame W.'s summons to the salle a 
manger as at dinner the night before. (These 
formalities are dispensed with at the petit 
dejeuner and afternoon tea, when the Chateau 



20 At a French Chateau 

people may straggle in at any time during the 
hour.) 

The dejeuner we found to be almost as 
hearty a meal as the diner. Soup is not served, 
but almost always hot meats, a vegetable, and 
either fruit or pudding as a dessert. Cold 
meat is quite as apt to be served at diner as at 
dejeuner. 

When the Monsieur and Madame were not 
too much occupied with their various duties, 
they frequently chatted with me; at which 
times I gleaned many interesting facts about 
French home life, as well as concerning the 
history of the Chateau. I learn that French 
women make good wives. Certainly if 
Madame is a fair type of the French woman, 
this is undoubtedly so. In the managing of 
her home she is ideal. Everything is well 
ordered, but simply. There seems to be plenty 
of time for everything. To be sure, the ser- 
vants, as a rule, are kept busy but apparently 
never hurried. The strenuous life is unknown 
at the Chateau; but rather is the rule laid 
down by the young husband here observed. 
" Lora," said he, ^' we'll do the housework, 
but we won't let the housework do us." 




THE MAIN WALK OF THE GARDEN. 



At a French Chateau 21 

'^ But why should French girls make ex- 
ceptionally good wives?" I inquired of 
Madame. 

" Because," she answered, ^' they are early 
taught that they are to be homemakers, and 
are reared with that idea constantly in mind. 
They are taught also that woman should wait 
upon man, and in every way be regardful of 
his needs and desires." 

" To an American mind it would seem that 
such a training has both its advantages and its 
disadvantages," I remarked. 

" Yes," was the response, " it has, though I 
believe the advantages far outweigh the dis- 
advantages. I know all about both from my 
own experience. As a young girl, I was never 
allowed to forget that it was my duty to make 
myself useful to my brothers as well as to my 
father. That was the old conservative idea," 
she went on, '^ though in these later days it is 
being somewhat modified among the better 
class ; and there, at least, woman's position is 
less onerous than formerly." 

^^ And yet, I have heard that the French 
woman rules the home; is it not so? " I ques- 
tioned. 



22 At a French Chateau 

" To a considerable extent, yes," she replied. 
"She is held there in the greatest respect; 
but the good housewife does not consider any 
service she may pay her lord as burdensome, 
rather it is her pleasure. In fact," she con- 
tinued, ^' the family ties are very strong among 
the French ; and all the members of the family 
are very loyal to each other. Children have 
great respect for their elders. Grandpere and 
Grandmere are objects of the greatest rever- 
ence." 

" French children," says Monsieur W. " are 
not spoiled. They are expected to be obedient, 
and as a rule to entertain themselves." 

It is quite noticeable that French children 
are not loaded dow^n with toys, as are so many 
American children. Spending money just for 
the sake of spending money and having some- 
thing to do is unknown in their little world. 

^' Too many ready-made toys are not good 
for the little ones," Monsieur W. remarked 
one day. " Having to find their own material, 
makes them self-reliant and stimulates origi- 
nality and invention." 

His two little sons, Rene and Eric, are good 
illustrations of the successful working out of 



At a French Chateau 23 

his method. Having been fed at their little 
table (they never eat with the older people), 
they will play contentedly about the place for 
hours at a time, with perhaps a box cover, a 
few stones and a stick, making all sorts of 
combinations to express different ideas, and 
apparently enjoying to the utmost their little 
conceits. I was called one day by Rene to 
help him drive his beetle horse into a paste- 
board-box-cover barn, at a time when the horse 
was proving too spirited for his little master 
to manage. Might not American parents here 
gain a useful hint? 

As soon as you enter the Chateau gate, you 
may feel yourself a member of this delightful 
family circle. In a word, you have entered 
a School Home, with all that phrase implies, 
and are entitled to the freedom and privileges 
of home. A School Home, it is indeed, over 
which Monsieur W. and his good femme, of 
the much respected family de Visme, preside. 
It is the home atmosphere that makes it a 
home, and the fact that you are being taught 
the French language and the French life every 
minute of your stay that makes it a School 
Home. 



24 At a French Chateau 

There are no definite study rooms, no defin- 
ite recitation rooms. You may seek out your 
own little spot to do your conning, be it the 
lazily-swinging hammock, a strong limb of 
the old cedar, the mud hut in close covert 
under the garden wall, or a shady spot in the 
park where you may lie, stretched at full 
length on your steamer rug, as secure from 
all intrusion as high stone walls can make 
you, and where only " day's garish eye" can 
penetrate. The life at the Chateau is in a 
large sense an outdoor life. Almost any time 
of a summer forenoon, one may see about the 
park a student and a teacher here, a student 
and a teacher there, enjoying, yes, enjoy- 
ing a lesson, wherever fancy may prompt. 
Madame W. is, perhaps, teaching Billie the 
French vowels; and Mademoiselle J., the 
Scotch lad the conjugations. The frequent 
peals of laughter evidence the fact that both 
teacher and student are having a good time. 
Why not? 

I commented to Monsieur W. on the gen- 
eral delectable atmosphere and asked, " What 
are your ideals for the home that are so happy 




OUTDOOR LIFE. 



At a French Chateau 25 

in their results? There is, apparently, no urg- 
ing, no driving, no drudgery." 

Monsieur smiled as he answered, " With us 
duty i's pleasure." 

" It seems to be so with students as well 
as with instructors," I remarked. 

"Yes," he added; "and why should it be 
irksome to anyone? God's work is already 
done, and it is a perfect work. All we have 
to do is to unfold and make manifest this per- 
fect idea in ourselves and in others, happily, 
lovingly, freely, God working with us to that 
end." 

" He is exemplifying the Scripture, * My 
yoke is easy, and my burden light,' " I thought, 
as he left me. " Truly, God has created man 
in His own image and likeness; the work is 
done. But no one of us is manifesting that 
likeness in its perfection; yet, to that extent 
that we have that mind in us that was also in 
Christ Jesus can we unfold in our conscious- 
ness the ideal." 

I could have no reasonable doubt about that. 
And Monsieur was not only working out his 
own problem according to this rule, but was 
giving the helping hand to all his household. 



26 At a French Chateau 

I had often noticed that Monsieur never 
seemed to question the desire nor the ability 
of his pupils to learn; and I have no doubt 
that his faith in them inspired a faith in them- 
selves. 

And yet this man who loves his Bible and 
makes it the guide of his life, has no objection 
to checkers, chess, or tennis on Sundays, — 
games that are not wrong in themselves and 
therefore may be allowed. Such doctrine 
would have scandalized our Puritan fathers. 
I doubt, however, if anyone at the Chateau 
would have the face to practice any unkind- 
ness, indulge in petty gossip, or use coarse or 
profane language. Apparently, though, there 
is perfect freedom of action. Boys and girls 
mingle freely, indulging ofttimes in playful 
pranks, but with perfect propriety. It seems 
that life is sweet and wholesome at the 
Chateau perforce. 

Many visitors come to the Chateau. The 
most frequent ones during my stay were two 
lads, Pierre and Robert L., perfect types of 
the well-bred French boys, manly and courte- 
ous. The L. family, although residing in 
Paris, regularly spend a portion of the sum- 




PLAYFUL PRANKS. 



At a French Chateau 27 

mer in Soisy-sous-Etiolles, the father fishing 
in the Seine the greater part of the time for 
the pure love of the sport, and the others of 
the family enjoying the country life after the 
manner of summer pleasure seekers in walk- 
ing on country roads, calling, etc. The lads 
certainly contribute no small part to the in- 
struction of the young people. They mani- 
festly find great delight in taking such fellows 
as Billie and the Chicago lad in tow and guid- 
ing them through the mazes of the tongue in 
which they themselves are so glib. They play 
and frolic freely with the boys, and whether 
at tennis or in a rough-and-tumble wrestling 
match the French tongue is always voluble, 
and constant repetition of the same sound soon 
leaves its impress. 

Often the sister drops in, a sweet and charm- 
ing demoiselle, very entertaining even if one 
doesn't comprehend all she says. She is re- 
markably pretty, with merry laughing eyes, 
and talks with her hands in such an animated 
manner that you quite understand her — at 
least you don't misunderstand her — even if 
you can't catch what her tongue is saying. 
Anyway you catch the spirit, and after all 



28 At a French Chateau 

that is more important than mere words ; and 
you feel that she and you are good friends, 
as you walk about the park with her arm in 
arm, laughing and chatting. 

One afternoon Maman and Grandpere came 
with the young people. Then tout le monde 
had tea in the park just back of the Chateau; 
and a right merry time it was, — Grandpere 
Maman, Demoiselle, and our boys talking all 
at once, or, in such quick response to each 
other, that it seemed that way. - Added the 
fluency of Madame R. and the rest, the air 
was literally filled with words in the most 
rollicking effusion. The tea over, Demoiselle 
sang for a bit to us in the salon, and then they; 
departed, Pierre, at the gate, gracefully kiss- 
ing the hand of Monsieur, of whom he is very 
fond. 

Pierre and Robert are not the only volun- 
tary assistants to the teaching force; for, in 
fact, each one of the household contributes 
his or her part. The housekeeper is most kind 
and painstaking in helping you along. To her, 
to teach French is to know no English, and she 
utterly refuses to understand anything but her 
native tongue. Aileen, the maid, who came 




TOUT LE MONDE HAD TEA IX THE PARK. 



At a Frencli Chateau 29 

daily to tidy my room, never made any re- 
sponse to my ^' Come," but would stand rap- 
ping till I called out '' Entrez,'' no matter how 
long I kept her waiting. Even Rene and 
Eric do not hesitate to add their part by mak- 
ing corrections when one does not use the right 
word. The first sound of the morning, the 
quoi? quoi? (what? what?), under my win- 
dow, reminded me that I must begin the 
day with French — French — and nothing but 
French. The glow worm, that lived in an 
oleander urn upon one of the posts of the 
perron (piazza), sent out its little light every 
evening; and when Mademoiselle J. was 
pleased to wear it in her bosom, it still shone 
on, apparently always willing, whether at 
home or abroad, to add its tiny part toward 
enlightening the world. 

Only secondary to the teaching propensity 
is the social. Scotland, England, France, 
Switzerland, and America are jolly good 
friends together. Charming Juliette, an 
American girl, smiles on all, not forgetting 
her little Romeo, who holds up a flower from 
underneath her balcony. Hens, chickens, rab- 
bits, and a turtle live happily together; and 



30 At a French Chateau 

when, one day, I enter the hen yard to take a 
picture, a kind poulette picks from my skirt 
the little clinging seeds known as beggars' lice, 
clucking socially as she does so. In truth, 
sociability is in the atmosphere; it is conta- 
gious. Before a week had passed, Billie had 
so far caught the spirit that almost anytime 
during the day he could be seen gargoyling 
from his third-story window to bid " Bon jour, 
Monsieur! '^ or ''Bon jour, Madame! " or 
^^ Bon jour, Mademoiselle!" or '^ Bon jour, 
tout le monde!'' with quite a chez-moi air. 

The evening is, however, the time of greatest 
sociability. As soon as dinner is over, all go 
out on the long perron for a half hour of sheer 
nonsense. There Billie was in his element; 
and nobody disputed his right to be. Indeed, 
he was encouraged rather than otherwise. He 
always seemed to be able to strike a responsive 
chord in Madame R. ; and when one day, bow- 
ing very low, he accosted her with a '^Voulez 
vous danser avec moi? " he found her ready. 
Back and forth on the long perron she gaily 
and spiritedly danced with him; and, taking 
up as much of the refrain to his accompani- 




SCOTLAND, ENGLAND, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, 
AND AMERICA. 



\ 



!At a French Chateau 31 

ment as she could manage, as gaily and spirit- 
edly sang with him, " It's a bear, it's a bear, 
it's a bear. There! " much to our amusement, 
until Billie had worked off a little of his seven- 
teen-year-old energy and was ready to stop. 
After the visit on the perron, there is usually 
a promenade, the favorite one at this time 
down to the Seine, that being only a short 
walk. 

On the return, all, perhaps, sit for a time 
on the stone steps at the entrance to wait for 
the facteur (mail-carrier) and then go to the 
salon to read letters, where, if the evening is 
chill, a cheerful fire is kindled in the wide 
hospitable grate. Checkers, chess, and back- 
gammon furnish entertainment for those who 
enjoy the games, until Monsieur W. is ready 
to conclude the evening with a short musical 
program, in which both guests and host take 
part. The songs are commonly in the French 
or Italian tongue. For that reason, when one 
night Monsieur W., who has a rare voice and 
delivery, sang so feelingly some of the choicest 
of our American songs, it seemed as if a breath 
from the homeland had been wafted across 



32 At a French Chateau 

the sea; and how sweet a breath it was! I 
could readily see that I was not even in the 
smallest degree being weaned from my native 
tongue. In fact, the more I heard the French, 
the more I loved my English, strange as it 
may seem. 

When it is bed time at the Chateau, there is 
a general hand-shaking and kind wishes of 
'' bon soir/' Then you grope your way 
through the long, narrow, dark halls to your 
chambres a coucher, — yes, grope, for the halls 
are not lighted, and your lamps are in your 
rooms to be lighted by you when you enter. 

I shall never forget the night I lost my way 
when going to bed. I had gone up ahead of 
the others, and was absent-mindedly feeling 
my way along, when all at once it occurred to 
me that I had no idea where I was. I had 
taken steps upward and steps downward, turn- 
ings to right, and turnings to left, I thought; 
but, of the steps and turnings I had lost my 
count. As I was the only one on the third 
floor, there was not a gleam of light from 
underneath anyone's door and practically no 
light through the hall casements, as it was 
such a night as 




CHARMING JULIETTE AND HER ROMEO. 



At a French Chateau 



33 



'' when the dragon womb 
Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom 
And makes one blot of all the air." 

Had I gone past Billie's door? I rather 
thought so but was not certain. Finally I 
discovered that I was face to face with some 
steep stairs leading upward. I had a dim 
recollection of such a flight of steps, that I 
had walked past many times in going to and 
from my room. Somehow they had never 
made any impression on me before. These, I 
thought, were just one turn from my room, 
so I went on until I found myself up against 
a bare blank wall. That was puzzling. I 
was just deliberating whether my wiser course 
were to turn around and go back or to pro- 
ceed on my uncertain way, when I heard 
Mademoiselle J. coming up the stairs. Al- 
though she spoke no English, and I couldn't 
for the moment find the French for light or 
match, she understood my lampe and came to 
my rescue. I was only one turn from my own 
door. 

Notwithstanding this occurrence, I slept 
soundly and peacefully; and when morning 



34 ^t a French Chateau 

had come and I had again shaken hands with 
tout le monde at cafe an lait, I felt that an- 
other day was properly begun — a day of unin- 
terrupted harmony in which love would be 
the dominant note. 



CHAPTER III 

The Chateau's History 

Just inside the hall entrance to the Chateau 
hangs a wooden tablet, on which is written in 
white paint the following: — 

Rene Mesmet 1729 

Bien National 1789 

Delore 1793 

Taignay 181 1 

Wolf 1821 

Kemnis 1829 

Creux 1844 

Haime 1861 

Bruslon 1879 

Eric Besnard 1898 

Such are the names of some of the owners 
of the Chateau, the last, Eric Besnard, being 

35 



36 At a French Chateau 

that of the present one. It is a curious coinci- 
dence that the two little sons of Monsieur W., 
Rene and Eric, bear the Christian names of 
the first and last persons recorded on the tablet. 
The names of proprietors from 1650 to 1729, 
when Rene Mesmet came into possession, and 
from his time to 1789, I had no available 
means of ascertaining. But this we know, that 
in 1789 the then owner, whoever he may have 
been, fled the fury of 'the Revolution; and the 
property was confiscated by the French gov- 
ernment. The Bien National held possession 
for four years, when the property was sold 
to Monsieur Delore. 

The fugitive, it is said, left a buried treas- 
ure. Whether this is in the great dining-room 
chimney, as clairvoyants have stated, or else- 
where, seems to be the great query. One thing 
is certain, there are so many places it might 
be, that it would be like hunting for error in 
absolute truth to try to recover it and probably 
about as hopeless a task, and might involve the 
razing of the entire fine old Chateau with still 
no treasure in sight. One thing nobody seems 
to doubt, and that is that there is such treas- 
ure somewhere. At one time, when it was 




^Hf 



i. 



^R 



RENE AND ERIC. 



At a French Chateau 37 

necessary to upholster anew some of the big 
salon chairs, several pieces of silver were found 
hidden in the luxurious depth of their pad- 
ding. 

Madame W. took me walking one after- 
noon through a long narrow lane just outside 
the park wall, the lane opening up into a 
bushy field immediately back of the Chateau 
grounds. It is here that a former proprietor, 
believing he had located the exact spot, once 
dug for the hidden treasure. (This field was 
once a part of the Chateau park, sold by the 
owner in a time of financial distress.) The 
anxious searcher found no gold, and a flat 
stone now covers the grave of his buried hopes. 
Nearby, however, is an interesting little stone 
house, doorless now, so that through the open- 
ing we could see a descending stone stairway. 
I explored, however, no farther than one step 
downward, finding the way blocked up by 
earth, stones and water. This little building is 
thought to have been a means of exit from one 
of the three underground passages known to 
have existed in the dark days preceding the 
Revolution. The exits from the others are 
supposed to have been several miles out, this 



38 At a French Chateau 

probably having been the nearest one. The 
Chateau entrances to these underground pas- 
sages are now closed, and the secret of their lo- 
cation is unknown; but mysterious-looking 
places* in the cellar wall are now believed to 
have been the means of departure for the poor 
fellows who long ago found home stripped of 
its protection and the very unsafest place for 
them to stay. How much they deserved it, it 
is hard to tell. These, I say, are supposed to 
have been the entrances; but as for that mat- 
ter, secret doors almost anywhere in the double 
walls of the Chateau might easily have ad- 
mitted an average-sized man and been his 
means of ingress to the subterranean passages 
below. These walls, both the outside and 
those between rooms, have oftentimes a thick- 
ness quite sufficient for this purpose, and are 
often utilized for deep closets and cupboards, 
the doors fitting into the walls and often 
papered like the room so that, when closed, 
their presence is scarcely perceptible. 

The oldest portion of the Chateau de Soisy 
was commenced in 1650. At least twice since 
then important additions have been made to 
the Chateau, to say nothing of the small of- 







^^^m: ' ■■.!**** 


w 




M^^M 


^^^^MBaBTO^8HHj^^^^^CT^^Bi.j^^-. ^tBpil 



At a French Chateau 39 

fices, that have sprung up like mushrooms 
close to the vine-laden w^alls, to meet the needs, 
or fancied needs, of different generations. 
The building, as it now stands, has the appear- 
ance of two houses of very different architec- 
ture grown together, both gray with age, the 
whole a picturesque old pile, in fact '* a goodly 
dwelling and a rich.'' It is three stories high, 
and constructed of stone smoothly plastered 
over. The oldest part includes the kitchen, 
the long dining-room, the main hallway and 
two salons (but not the large one) on the 
ground floor, and many chambers above. One 
notable feature is the very great number of 
outside doors. Practically every room on the 
ground floor has one; and the dining-room, 
which extends the entire width of the building, 
has two, one on each side. Curiosity prompted 
me to walk around the building and count 
them, with the result that I discovered sixteen. 
These are nearly all double doors, the outer 
ones heavy wooden shutters. Double doors 
also are in many instances between rooms, the 
intervening space being often wide enough so 
that one may stand therein in perfect comfort 
with both doors closed. 



40 At a French Chateau 

The present-day billiard room was once 
used as a chapel, where marriages and bap- 
tisms were solemnized, the audience sitting 
in the big salon, which opens out of it. This 
was at a time when, because of religious per- 
secution, it was unsafe to perform such cere- 
monies in the church. 

Around this fascinating old pile there are 
twelve acres of park, including the garden, 
the whole surrounded by a high stone wall, the 
only opening being the great iron gateway at 
the front. 

Such is the fine old estate, now owned by 
Monsieur Eric Besnard, a Parisian lawyer, 
and leased by Monsieur Williamson-de-Visme 
for his School Home. For a few years past 
the place has been allowed sadly to run down, 
either from lack of funds or lack of interest; 
and, except for a few weeks in summer, no 
one lived at the Chateau save the care-taker 
and his family and the indispensable Laura, 
until the coming of the good people whose 
chief business in life is to be good and to do 
good, and Vv^hose greatest remuneration is in 
being happy and in giving happiness. Now, 
literally waste places are beginning to bloom; 



At a French Chateau 41 

and every day bestows its gift of general im- 
provement. Ernest, the care-taker, is grati- 
fied to see the return of its one-time thriving 
aspect, and for that end cheerfully works from 
early morning until it is time to make fast 
the gate for the night. 

Just outside the Chateau gate is the Church 
of Notre Dame de Soisy-sous-Etiolles. A 
tablet at the entrance gives the information 
that la Chap ell e de la Ste Vierge was con- 
structed in 1653. It is interesting to note that 
this was but three years after the Chateau 
building was commenced. I entered the 
church one day, an interesting place on the 
whole, to seek for the chapel, as that portion 
of the church is supposed to have belonged 
with the Chateau estate in the early days. I 
had no difficulty in finding the part which en- 
shrines the image of the Virgin Mary; and 
when I discovered its style of architecture and 
composition, though very diflferent from that 
of the rest of the edifice, to be identical with 
that of the Chateau, even to the hexagonally- 
shaped red stones comprising the floor, I did 
not doubt the truth of the claim. 



CHAPTER IV 
'At the Lavoir 

To me by no means one of the least inter- 
esting places in the Chateau park was the 
lavoir (wash-house) ; and by no meanfs one of 
the least interesting of the people who 
were often seen there was the blanchisseuse 
(washer-woman.) Hence, I was a frequent 
visitor at the lavoir on washing days. 

The lavoir is a novel, old, one- room stone 
house, completely open on one side and with- 
out doors and windows. Its most notable fea- 
ture, partly under cover of the house and 
partly in the open, is a huge square tank, about 
three feet deep, with cement sides and bottom, 
in effect, a great sunken wash-tub, in which 
the family washings are done. Entirely 
around the top of this is a cement shelving 
about a foot wide, sloping inward. It is upon 
these sloping sides that the clothes are soaped, 

42 



1 



At a French Chateau 43 

squeezed, slapped, and brushed until they 
come out white and clean. Through a large 
iron pipe a stream of water is continually flow- 
ing into this tank, the outlet being a cement 
trough leading to a channel, which winds 
across the park to the duck pond. This con- 
stant changing of the water keeps the pool 
comparatively clear; and here the washing, 
sudsing, and rinsing is done, all at the same 
time. Back of the tank is a flat stove, on which 
a great boiler rests ; and in this the clothes are 
boiled. 

So much for the place. As for the humble 
woman that graced it, she was not much to 
look at, with her baggy blouse, generous apron, 
clumsy wooden shoes, and stringy black hair, 
to no great extent confined by her small comb 
and single hairpin; but she always gave me 
a welcome whenever I was pleased to make 
her a call and so, I felt, amply made up for 
an uninteresting exterior in sociability. 

For equipment our blanchisseuse has a 
paddle, a scrub brush, and a big bar of soap 
four or ^Yt inches through. Then she kneels 
in what looks like a wooden box w^ith top and 
one end removed, the sides sloping as in the 



44 At a French Chateau 

body of a Roman chariot, the whole much re- 
sembling one. The bottom of this is padded 
with hay to make a cushion for the knees. 
Once in her box, she leans over and puts the 
soiled garment into the water; the cleansing 
process is begun. Then she lays the garment 
on the sloping side of the tank, soaps it 
thoroughly, rolls it up, and gives it a few slaps 
with her paddle to cause the soap to penetrate 
to all parts, squeezes it, then unrolls it, lays 
it out flat, and, after dipping her brush into 
the water, brushes it on both sides, gives it a 
parting dip in the water, and then lays it aside 
for a time to repeat the process on the other 
garments. I watched her for a long time one 
day while she w^as washing the towels ; and it 
is surprising how the dirt disappeared under 
this process. It seemed to me that the clothes 
would need no boiling after that, but she 
seemed to think otherwise. 

Afterward I did not hesitate to give her 
my blouses and skirts to launder, though she 
took them home with her and, perhaps, soaped, 
and slapped and brushed them on a big flat 
stone on the banks of the Seine, sousing them 
up and down in the limpid waters of that 




ON THE BANKS OF THE SEINE. 



-1 
I 



At a French Chateau 45 

river, which serves as a common wash-tub to 
the peasant women who live along its borders. 
At all events they came back looking white 
and clean ; and I might truthfully say, as the 
husband said to his wife, who proudly brought 
to his notice some exquisitely hemmed napkins 
of her own handiwork, " They wouldn't have 
been done better if I had done them myself." 

La blanchisseuse and I had frequent visits. 
Somehow I was able to understand her better 
than I could some of the good people at the 
Chateau, perhaps because the vocabulary at 
her command was not large and more nearly 
fitted my own, which contained only the com- 
monest of words. One day, when she was 
particularly communicative, I asked her what 
she was kneeling in. 

'' Une boite a laver'' (a washing-box), she 
answered. Interpreted, this is the conversa- 
tion that followed: 

" Your method of washing is very interest- 
ing," I said. 

"Oh, yes," she responded; "you do not 
wash this way in America? " 

" No." 

"You wash at a tub?" 



46 At a French Chateau 

" Yes." 

"And standing up!" a look of real com- 
miseration on her face. 

'' Yes." 

" It must be very difficult," she sighed, with 
a shake of the head. 

" And do you wash out here during the 
winter? " I questioned. 

" Certainly." 

"But isn't it too cold?" 

" Oh, no, it is quite comfortable." 

It was evident that she was not envying us 
our set tubs and running hot and cold water; 
she was quite satisfied with her way of wash- 
ing. Truly I doubt if my lady of the palace 
is more at ease in her boudoir than is my lady 
of the lavoir, when she kneels in her Roman 
chariot to run down the grime and dirt of 
the Chateau's washing with the prancing 
steeds, Soap, Brush, and Paddle. Begging the 
Bishop's pardon for the change in gender, — 

''Her hair, French-like, stares on her 

frighted head. 
One lock, Amazon-like, dishevelled." 

The last time I visited her, I asked her if 



At a French Chateau 47 

I might take her photographic. She smiled 
and immediately posed, her paddle raised as 
though she were about to use it. I was sorry 
to have the picture a failure, but such it was. 
Ma blanchisseuse is not the only one who 
uses the pool. I was surprised to learn that 
both girls and boys at the Chateau are accus- 
tomed to take a plunge now and then when the 
water is clear. Mademoiselle J. often taking 
one in the early morning before the petit 
dejeuner, I did not try it; but Billie said 
that the water was not cold. I did, how- 
ever, try the boite a laver and found it 
not uncomfortable. Billie said he thought 
I would make quite a respectable-looking 
washer-woman, and took a snap-shot of me, 
as I knelt, that I might, as he said, see myself 
as others saw me. I intended to try my hand 
at washing there; but when I was ready, I 
found that Ernest had drawn off the water in 
order to clean the tank and at the same time 
flood the duck pond. Thus my purpose was 
thwarted, and I suppose I shall have to re- 
main the lady of the wash-tub and not of the 
lavoir all my mortal days. Well, it is not 
wise to be too ambitious. 



CHAPTER V 
'Ernest and His Family 

Speaking of Ernest, reminds me of 
Monsieur W's. remarks concerning him. 
" Ernest," said he, *' is a servant of the old 
regime, loyal and faithful. One of the evil 
results of the Revolution," he added, " v^as to 
make the servant element faithless and in- 
solent. Many of the domestics nov^ think 
themselves not only as good as their employers 
but vastly superior, with the result that they 
study to see how little work they can do and 
just when and where they may defraud their 
masters." (My experience in a Paris hotel 
shortly before had prepared me to credit this 
statement.) 

But this is surely not the case with Ernest, 
for a more cheerful, courteous, valuable, and 
dependable man about the place could hardly 
be imagined. He works incessantly. One 

48 



At a French Chateau 49 

may see him almost any time during the day 
in his long apron, " the sign of his profession," 
about his accustomed duties. In the early 
morning he is feeding the ducks, beating rugs, 
picking up dry twigs and piling them up for 
future use in kindling fires (for nothing is 
wasted here), or sweeping the paths or court- 
yard with his besom broom, that everything 
may have a tidy appearance. 

I often felt inclined to visit the garden 
after the petit dejeuner, when everything 
looked its freshest and best. I liked to saunter 
leisurely down the main path between the 
apple-tree hedges, past the one-time fountains, 
over to the decrepit old well-house, and thence, 
perhaps, to wander aimlessly around in the 
narrow footpaths till I came to the old green- 
house, close to the gate, with the rose bushes 
on one side and the tangles of vegetables and 
flowers on the other, — everywhere enjoying 
the fragance that pervaded the atmosphere, 
and delighting in the evidences all around, 
that the old garden, with all else, has taken a 
new lease of life and is likely to bloom and to 
bear fruitage for ages to come. 

Usually I would find Ernest there, bend- 



50 At a French Chateau 

ing his back over vegetable or flower beds, 
but always ready with his ''Bon jour, made- 
moiselle/' with perhaps a bit more by way of 
greeting or information, which I did not al- 
ways understand. Cheerily this faithful man 
keeps at his work from early morning till the 
Chateau people are all in for the night, and it 
is time to make fast the shutters and doors 
and lock the big iron gateway. This done, 
Ernest right there in his lodge, and Laura in 
her kennel close by, one feels that, '' Our 
castle's strength might laugh a siege to scorn," 
at least any that might threaten the Chateau, 
people of to-day. 

Dwelling with him in his lodge, is his smil- 
ing, good-natured wife, head cook at the 
Chateau, and two little sons, the latter almost 
invariably in high-necked, long-sleeved black 
aprons, the common garb for boys of school 
age, whether in school or at play. The little 
lads are evidently being reared as befitting 
boys of their station, for one frequently sees 
them raking up the park, picking up potatoes, 
carrying baskets of vegetables to the kitchen, 
or sitting on a bench just outside the kitchen 
door, breaking up string beans, or in some 




TAKEN INTO THE QUEER-LOOKING BOX. 



At a French Chateau 51 

other way helping their busy mother in pre- 
paring the delectable foods for the table. 

They are always polite, never failing to 
doff their wide-brimmed straw hats and make 
very low bows when they meet one. They 
are very fond of having their photographies 
taken, and expectantly strike an attitude when- 
ever they see one near with an open kodak, 
keeping perfectly quiet until they learn 
whether or not one has designs upon them. 
Rene and Eric, too, are willing to be taken 
into the queer little box; but immediately 
thereafter they want to look into your kodak 
to see what you have there. The latter wish 
to investigate, to understand; the former take 
the act on trust, and no further trouble their 
little heads about it. 

I could not help contrasting the lot of this 
humble man of all work with that of the scores 
of servants of the palmy days of yore. And, 
yet I much doubt if the one-time porter in all 
his livery was as happy as the man of to-day 
who, with his be-aproned family, makes his 
home in the tiny stone lodge by the gateway. 



CHAPTER VI 

Favorite Walks 

Everybody at the Chateau walks— or rather 
promenades; and there are many interesting 
ways that one may take. Of course there is 
always the tour of the park; but the Chateau 
people do not by any means confine them- 
selves to that. In shade hats and with cane in 
hand, they love to take long tramps on country 
roads, often not for the purpose of reaching 
any place in particular, but for the mere 
pleasure of walking. 

The favorite short walk is down to the 
River Seine, to reach which one passes the 
old church and then takes almost a bee line 
through a most magnificent avenue of inter- 
locking trees, the giant size of many of them 
testifying to a growth of centuries. The first 
glance into this ever lessening vista is a sur- 
prise and joy. With reverence you enter the 

52 




TO THE RIVER SEINE. 



At a French Chateau 53 

shadowy depths of this great natural cathedral, 
and softly tread its nave and choir toward the 
heaven lighted chancel at the farther end. No 
vehicles except baby carriages are permitted 
in this avenue: and almost any time during 
a pleasant day you may see little family groups 
about the stone benches which line the way, 
enjoying the cool shade of the trees, Maman 
often knitting or employing her hands in some 
similar way while she entertains baby in his 
chariot near by, or watches the older children 
as they play about her knees. 

As you emerge at the lock in the river, you 
may see other groups lolling upon the river 
banks, with their picnic baskets, awaiting, per- 
haps, the hungry coming of father, brother, 
or son, from among the numbers that are fish- 
ing from their boats all along the river. These 
fishermen surely do know how to take life 
leisurely for many of them sit in their boats 
and fish all day long, Waltons, as far as 
their love for the sport is concerned, and 
^' compleat anglers," indeed, without any res- 
ervation whatsoever. Where no family parties 
await them on the river banks, they have their 
bags and baskets of lunch along with them so 



[54 At a French Chateau 

that there may be no interruption to their 
piscatory occupation until the waning day 
compels it. 

Then you may walk along the beautiful 
river, miles if you wish, in narrow hard- 
beaten paths, through green fields, past house- 
boat bathing places, discovering, perhaps, on 
the opposite bank some imposing chateau 
" bosomed high in tufted trees," at last 
abruptly leaving the river to go home by 
other picturesque avenues almost equal to the 
one by which you came. 

It is much to the credit of the French 
people that even in such small villages as 
Soisy-sous-Etiolles, they expend much care 
on the beautifying of public roads and parks, 
where the poor as well as the rich may freely 
go, and which in a sense they may call their 
own. 

Then there is the tour at random, or tour 
of discovery. Mademoiselle L. from Arkansas 
and I started out on one of this kind one after- 
noon, neither of us having any definite goal 
in view, and for a time walking aimlessly 
about the little village, picturesque in the 
usual old-world quaintness, but possessing 



1 



At a French Chateau 55 

little that is remarkable. Finally we strayed 
off into a country road for no particular reason 
only that we had never been that way before 
and had no idea where the road would lead 
us. We followed this some distance out; and 
it was not long before we were convinced that 
we had made a happy choice, for we found the 
road to run parallel to the Seine, with orchard 
after orchard of fruit-laden trees on the one 
side and a row of modern chateaus on the 
other. 

Chateaus, as I understand the term, were 
formerly fortified country-seats, or castles ; as 
Burke puts it ^' The strong chateaus, those 
feudal fortresses;" but the present day 
chateaus are simply palatial country houses, 
with extensive parks enclosed, as formerly, by 
high stone walls. Such were those along our 
way. Here and there through the iron gate- 
ways we could catch brief glimpses of splendid 
palaces, velvet lawns, and flower beds bright 
with bloom; but for the most part the high 
walls shut off the view. 

Having gone as far out as we cared to, we 
descended through a narrow lane to the river 
and then followed the beaten path along the 



56 At a French Chateau 

stream in the direction of home, pausing now 
and then to watch the fishermen at their 
patient angling, or the women gleaners in their 
wooden shoes, gathering the left-over straws 
of wheat into their ample aprons, while babes 
amused themselves on heaps of straw near by. 
We noted with pleasure the attractive ap- 
pearance of the huts along the way, for how- 
ever mean the hut or however scanty the plot 
of ground, the occupants had found time to 
attend to their embellishment, as was evi- 
denced by the brilliantly-colored flower-beds, 
trailing vines wherever there was anything to 
which they might cling, and the potted plants 
on window-sill and door-step. Arriving at 
the lock, we made our way through the famous 
avenue of which mention has been made, past 
the Church of the Notre Dame to the Chateau 
gate. 

The favorite long walk, is, perhaps, to the 
Forest of Senart. You must go some dis- 
tance before reaching the woodland, a part of 
the way along fields of waving wheat, thickly 
besprinkled with scarlet poppies; and, as you 
walk, you pluck the spears of ripened grain, 
as was done by the disciples of old, and eat the 




CARREFOUR DU CHUJNE. 



At a French Chateau 57 



sweet kernels. You see the peasants in their 
wooden shoes cutting the grain with their little 
sickles, or gathering it into heaps ; and as you 
approach nearer the forest, you become aware 
that Scotland does not have a monopoly of 
heather, for here the roadsides are thickly 
bordered with its purplish-pink blossoms. As 
you advance, the road becomes more wooded 
and picturesque; and when you are fairly in 
the forest, a short walk brings you to the 
Carrefour du Chene, where a huge oak marks 
the crossing of the roads. 

This is a good place for pedestrians to rest, 
and we took advantage of the opportunity 
offered before going on. I had been reading 
Robert Louis Stevenson's " Inland Voyages '^ 
and was now ready to agree with him that 
" Surely of all smells in the world the smell of 
many trees is the sweetest and most fortify- 
ing." A sign at one of the less frequented 
roads warned us of a Chassee Reserve in that 
direction; and we turned our backs on the 
hunting reservation to follow one of the main 
roads, which forms almost a right angle with 
the way by which we had entered the wood. 

But the Chassee Reserve reminded us fore- 



58 At a French Chateau 

ibly that we were walking in the famous 
Forest of Senart, once a much frequented 
hunting-ground of Louis XV and the place 
where Madame d' Etiolles (Madame de 
Pompadour) first attracted his attention. 

The story goes that the young and beautiful 
Madame d' Etiolles promised eternal fidelity 
to her husband unless the king should fall in 
love w^ith her. Lenorman d' Etiolles took this 
as a huge joke at the time for it was not at all 
probable that his majesty would do so. D' 
Etiolles owned an abandoned chateau in the 
forest of Senart; and when Madame learned 
that the king frequently hunted in the forest, 
she persuaded her husband to have the chateau 
repaired and newly furnished, that they might 
spend their summers there, claiming that her 
physicians had recommended a change of air 
for her. Suspecting nothing, the indulgent 
husband had the chateau decorated and fur- 
nished in the most splendid style. Once in- 
stalled in her palatial residence, Madame had 
made to order three or four carriages of fairy- 
like lightness and graceful form. As she had 
hoped, she often met the king when on her 
drives, but at first he paid no attention to her. 



At a French Chateau 59 

She was not to be repelled, however, and re- 
doubled her efforts to make herself attractive 
in the eyes of the royal sportsman, — at one 
time in an azure robe, seated in a rose-colored 
phaeton, at another, in a robe of rose, in a 
phaeton of pale blue. All these wiles were 
not without affect, and soon she had a speak- 
ing acquaintance, which in time ripened into 
an infatuation that for twenty years made her 
the king's favorite at the Court of Versailles. 
Musing on the singular life of this woman, 
the ruling passion of whose heart was ambi- 
tion, I followed along the road toward 
Etiolles, making at length a sharp turn to- 
ward the right into a less frequented way 
terminating in a path which leads back to the 
place at which we had entered the forest. 
Then instead of returning the way by which 
we had come, we took a path to the right, 
which leads away from the big trees and 
beaten path to where blackberries grow thick 
and luscious, and dainty pink flowers peep 
here and there from the green grass. Then we 
came out upon a red-stone quarry where tw^o 
poor fellows in stripes running horizontally 



6o At a French Chateau 

were breaking up stone for use in building 
roads, with a groan at every stroke. 

Thence we returned the shortest way by 
country roads and rural lanes back to little 
Soisy-sous-Etiolles. 

Soisy-sous-Etiolles (Soisy under or below 
Etiolles.) As one might infer from the name, 
the village of Etiolles is situated above Soisy; 
and up the hill a party of us walked one after- 
noon to seek out the quaint little town at the' 
edge of the Forest of Senart, of which the 
family d' Etiolles was once the life. For some^ 
distance we followed the high wall that marks 
the boundary, on one side, of the park which 
once surrounded the splendid chateau where 
Madame Pompadour, by private theatricals, 
in which she performed the most brilliant 
parts, sought to gain the admiration of her 
king. 

This great park is now used as a hunting- 
ground by its owner, who, on purchasing it, 
at once consigned it to the spoiler, pulling 
down the fine old chateau and selling off 
pictures and furniture, it is said, enough to 
cover the cost to him of the whole estate. 
The old stone seats now in the park of the 



At a French Chateau 6i 

Chateau de Soisy once rested in the park of 
Madame Pompadour. The last to make his 
home in the Etiolles chateau was Count 
Walewski, son of Napoleon I. 

A short walk up a quaint and time-worn 
street brought us to the church of Etiolles, 
the objective point of our pilgrimage. This 
ancient church has some especially interesting 
old paintings, perhaps the most notable one of 
Jesus, and the Holy Virgin in an attitude of 
adoration. This was presented to the church 
by the Emperor Napoleon III. Another of 
perhaps second merit is that given by Madame 
Walewski. 

Here the old church stands, in a sense, a 
monument to former grandeur; but the glory 
of Etiolles has departed. Visitors come oc- 
casionally to roam about for a little in town 
and forest, the greatest interest of which cen- 
ters in the strange and eventful career of the 
woman who was, for a portion of the eigh- 
teenth century, virtually premier of France. 
The Council of Ministers met in her boudoir, 
and there most important matters of state were 
settled. There generals, ministers, and ambas- 
sadors were chosen or rejected, according to 



62 At a French Chateau 

her caprice. But not only in the heavenly 
city must *' mighty potentates and dynasties 
lay down their honors/' but everywhere and 
under all circumstances. The fickle mon- 
arch, having become tired of his long-time 
favorite, Madame de Pompadour spent her 
last days a disappointed and disconsolate 
creature, without admiration or sympathy. 
What a pity that a woman of her marvelous 
ability could not have learned early that not 
only '' has evil no standing in good society " 
but that it has no stability in any society ; 
and so have left a stainless record of good 
and great works. 

The walks that I have mentioned are not 
by any means the only ones of interest about 
Soisy-sous-EtioUes. Evry and Petit-Bourg 
are characteristic French country towns, 
quaint and picturesque, and within easy 
walking distance of the Chateau, as is also 
Corbeil, of which I shall tell in the next 
chapter ; but those of which I have written 
are perhaps the favorite ones of the Chateau 
people. 



CHAPTER VII 
Market Day at Corbeil 

Tuesdays and Fridays are market days at 
Corbeil ; and on those days people from all the 
country round hurry thither to do their 
marketing, some of them walking quite con- 
siderable distances. I went one Tuesday 
morning with Madame R., having arisen an 
hour earlier and taken my cafe au lait some- 
what hurriedly, to do so. We walked to the 
station of Evry-Petit-Bourg, a distance of two 
kilometres, to take the train and went at what 
I should call a brisk trot (Madame R. is a 
good walker). There we found dozens of 
other women, with baskets and mesh bags, 
also going to market. 

'Among them was our little Paris friend, 
Mademoiselle L., accompanied by her Maman 
and a maid. Mademoiselle was most charm- 

63 



64 At a French Chateau 

ing to me that day, and entertained me in her 
best manner. I was getting somewhat accus- 
tomed to the French tongue and could now 
understand, perhaps, a tithe of what she said 
to me. I was conscious at one time that she 
was inquiring about Billie and expressing the 
opinion that he was a boii garqon and tres 
amusant, in which I quite agreed with her; 
but what he was doing that morning and why 
he didn't come to market I was unable to tell 
her. I thought very likely, though, that, hav- 
ing eaten his petit dejeuner, he was employing 
himself before study time in the very practical 
way of hectoring the girls. But I was not 
worried, for I knew that should he be inclined 
to carry his pranks beyond the bounds of 
decorum, Mademoiselle J. would quell him 
(or try to) with the little English that she 
knew (or thought she knew) which con- 
sisted solely of the phrase " f resche keed!" 
always with an exclamation mark after it, 
should one wish to write it. 

It was a matter of only a few minutes when 
we were at Corbeil, quite a good-sized village; 
and a short walk brought us to the market, a 
place long to be remembered but not easily 




EVERYTHING WAS THERE FOR SALE. 



At a French Chateau 65 

described. Tout le monde was there, from the 
bediamoned lady to the bedraggled scrub- 
woman, some buying some selling. There 
spread out along a wide square for several rods 
was what one might at a first glance call a 
department store, but he finds that the dif- 
ferent departments are so many distinct shops. 
Everything was there for sale : patent medi- 
cines and wooden shoes, fresh fish and Sun- 
day hats, cheese and canary birds, cabbages 
and neckties, all in a conglomerate mass. If 
anything was lacking, I did not discover what. 
The market-place at Buda-Pesth does not 
outdo the market-place of Corbeil, either in 
variety of articles on sale, or in representative 
types of the people of the country. 

After the housekeeper had bought some 
cakes and a big fish, and I had taken a few 
pictures, we two walked down to the Seine to 
see the fishermen in their boats and then past 
the Grand Moulin de Corbeil, one of the most 
important grist mills in France, to the impres- 
sive and interesting old church of St. Ger- 
main. This magnificent religious monument 
dates back to the 9th century and was founded 
by M. Haymon, the first count of Corbeil. It 



66 At a French Chateau 

is situated in the ancient cloister of Saint- 
Spire, which we entered through a fine old- 
gateway of the 1 2th century. 

Madame R. left her big fish, done up at full 
length in a newspaper, in a recess between an 
outer and an inner door. Then we entered, 
and I was soon aware that the interior is quite 
as interesting as the exterior of the church. 
At the entrance there is a long list of the names 
of all priests who have had the church in 
charge since its founding. Another one re- 
cords the names of prominent benefactors of 
the church, among them several kings, for this 
church was a very important one up to the 
time of the Revolution and had special atten- 
tion from some of the sovereigns. Notable 
among them was Louis IX, a zealous crusader 
of the 13th century, afterward canonized as 
St. Louis. This saintly king, it is said, pur- 
chased from Baldwin, Emperor of Constan- 
tinople, the Crown of Thorns and a fragment 
of the True Cross, paying a large sum of 
money for them. That he might have a suit- 
able house in which to enshrine such valuable 
objects, he had built the Sainte Chappelle, that 
beautiful chapel in Paris, so admired for its 




THE OLD CHURCH OF ST. GERMAIN. 



At a French Chateau 67 

magnificent windows, by all lovers of the 
beautiful. To these sacred relics was added 
later the skull of St. Louis himself, in a golden 
reliquary; and in this chapel they remained 
until they were transferred to the Notre Dame 
for greater safety. 

There are other important names upon this 
list besides that of Louis IX, and other inter- 
esting objects in the church besides the 
lists. Among the latter may be mentioned the 
beautiful stained-glass windows, the fine altar, 
the beautiful statue of Joan of Arc, and that 
which is, perhaps, in the eyes of the church of 
most importance, the tomb of the first Count 
of Corbeil. 

Having remained in the church as long as 
we wished, we recovered the odorous fish and 
went back to the station, though it was some 
minutes before train time. This gave us 
a good opportunity to watch the women 
and children as they came straggling back, 
weighted dow^n with butter, cheese, potatoes, 
enormous cabbages, great joints of meat, etc. 
I wondered that some of them were able to 
bear their burdens; but all looked happy and 
satisfied as they took w^ith us seats in the third- 



68 At a French Chateau 

class coaches and were whizzed back to Evry- 
Petit-Bourg. 

The long string of cheerful burden bearers 
was both novel and picturesque, as it trailed 
away from the station of Evry-Petit-Bourg 
along the shady roadway and over the long 
bridge to Etiolles or Soisy-sous-Etiolles, each 
link in the animated chain, no doubt, anticipat- 
ing the feasting on the delectable food stuffs 
bought at la marche de Corbeil. We were no 
exceptions, and had our fish and cakes for 
dinner. 



CHAPTER VIII 

Barnurns Great Cinema 

We were thrown into great excitement one 
night at dinner when the blowing of a horn 
and at the same time the ringing of the gate 
bell heralded the information that something 
of importance was about to take place. Ernest 
went on the run and soon returned with a flyer, 
announcing that the great success, " Barnum's 
Cinema," had arrived in town and that a per- 
formance would be given that evening, one 
representation only. That being the case, we 
could not afford to miss it, and we decided 
then and there to go en masse. We went early 
so as to get good seats, our Paris friends join- 
ing us on the way. We entered the hall, which 
was a very small one, its only furniture consist- 
ing of two rows of long benches, perhaps six 
or seven in a row. Having purchased our 
tickets, we appropriated to our use the three 



70 At a French Chateau 

benches farthest back on the left. These seats 
were upholstered in black oilcloth, while 
others had either no covering at all or one of a 
very dirty and ragged coarse red-and-white 
cotton. The bare benches certainly did not 
have an inviting appearance, and the red and 
white were impossible; so for the time and 
place we felt that we had made a good choice. 
As yet we were the only spectators, and we 
now took time to examine the flimsy little slips 
of paper that served as tickets. To our sur- 
prise we found that some of our party had paid 
one-half franc, some three-fourths of a franc, 
some a franc, and Billie and I one franc and 
a half each, the ticket-seller having added in 
lead pencil the necessary figures to make our 
little yellow slips of paper of sufficient value. 
However, we were allowed to sit together on 
the oil-cloth-covered seats, whatever the price 
of our tickets ; and others, who came later, ap- 
parently had the like privilege of choosing of 
what was left, the latest comers sitting on the 
floor and leaning up against the bare, blank 
walls. I did not exactly understand their 
system ; but it was evident that those traveling 
show-people were not at all particular what 



Quel que soit le succiis, il n'y aura qu'une seule representation 




'^^'rx"^ PATHE Freres 



Spectacle de famille — 3 heures de projeclion - Un seul entr'acte - Toutes les 
^_ vues soiit ciairement expliquees par la Direction 



Les derniers exploits de nos aviateurs -• 

Beaumont, Vidart, Train, Henry Farman, Garros, Vedrines siir son 
monoplan Deperdusin, moteur 100 HP 



Les petits vagabonds 

Dramatique 



Criboullle au Sk^llng 



La Viergs ie Bilylone 



EN VACANGES, farces de gosses, cxirvconnque 



DANSES COSMOPOLITES, S.perbe ue e„ c.uleurs 

RESURRECTION | 



■ TOLS+OI - Dra 

ran^aisc - Le prince Xeckliou.lol. 
Katiuuciia - Le depart de Katiuucha 



' de Katinurha 



LfV PfVSSION PE N.-5.-J -^. 



Tontoiini fait le saut perilleux Foi-KirT" 



PRIX DES PLACES TROISIpMES 0.50 - Secondes 0.75 - Premieres 1 fr - Rtservies i.jO 

Enfants au-dessous de 10 ans. denii-place — En las de otcessil*, lu Direction se reserve le droit 

d'interverlirou de inodilier leprasent programme — Aucun danger d'niceiidie. films imn/lammables 



Spccltlilc dt profamtiio Thcatrei «t CiDcn 



ONE REPRESENTATION ONLY. 



At a French Chateau 71 

you paid or what seats you occupied. There 
was one advanage, however, Billie and I had 
the satisfaction of knowing that we held re- 
served-seat tickets (there were none better), 
though we sat one on each side of Madame R. 
who had purchased a third class billet. The 
tickets were not demanded and I still have 
mine among my valued souvenirs. 

Our early arrival at the show gave us an 
excellent opportunity to watch the country 
people come trooping in. They came by 
families, and having finally deposited them- 
selves, awaited with expectant faces, the begin- 
ning of the great moving-picture show. There 
were blowzed peasants, young and old, in their 
coarse blue frocks and trousers, and clattering 
wooden sabots ; fat, almost toothless and alto- 
gether corsetless old women, in their loose 
blouses, tied down by their coarse blue aprons ; 
young women of generous figures, some of 
them rather good-looking, with babes in arms ; 
frowzy-headed little girls, with front locks 
tightly braided, with perhaps a tiny, tiny bit of 
narrow ribbon by way of ornament ; boys of all 
shapes and sizes, in their short socks, black 
cotton aprons, and wide-brimmed straw hats; 



72 At a French Chateau 

and, last but not least, coquettish rusticity, rev- 
elling in the companionship of her bel 
amoureux, though in the eyes of the world he 
must appear but an " unlettered hind." All 
the men, except those of our party, sat with 
their hats on, most of them vociferously puffing 
their tobacco throughout the entire perform- 
ance. That they do otherwise seemed not to 
have been expected of them; and, as the 
women wore no hats, no polite invitation that 
they remove them was necessary. I have said 
that all the men except those of our party wore 
their hats during the performance, but that 
statement is not strictly true. I was pleased to 
see that our Ernest had not only dofifed his 
apron but sat with head uncovered, thus show- 
ing himself a little higher in the social scale 
than the gens de la campagne. 

While the people were gathering, the oper- 
ator, a dark, fat, greasy-looking individual, 
proudly marched up and down the aisles, smil- 
ing blandly upon his audience, with the air of 
one who is about to give them a great treat, 
which he is confident, must meet with their un- 
qualified approval. His very attitude pro- 
claimed in unmistakable words, '^ I would do 



At a French Chateau 73 

anything for you." Perhaps it was this 
attitude that gave Billie the assurance neces- 
sary to slip to the casement and swing it open, 
thinking that a breath of pure air would be 
quite agreeable and perhaps blow out a little 
of the smoke. But, behold! a change now 
comes o'er the man. With the intensest of ex- 
citement he leaps to the spot, with a ^' No, no. 
Monsieur! No, no. Monsieur!" and on the 
instant everything is made fast again. The 
windows must not be open, for there are rogues 
and rascals outside who might look in and get 
the show for nothing. 

As for the show, well, it was quite like those 
given in America, no better, not much worse. 
There were the ascension of aviators, cosmo- 
politan dances. Biblical representations, elope- 
ments of fond lovers, with tyrannical parents, 
and the mischievous city kids, who go to 
grandfather's farm to give their parents a rest, 
spill the ink on the parlor carpet, steal the jam, 
overturn milk pans, make bonfires of the hay- 
stacks, and let out all the live stock. 

The operator seemed to think that the pic- 
tures needed a great deal of explication and 
kept up a flow of talk very amusing, both to 



74 At a French Chateau 

those who understood and to those who partly 
understood. More than that he gave his opin- 
ion of what was being enacted before the eyes, 
and made jocular remarks concerning the 
deeds done on the screen, especially when they 
chanced to be all about love and the bel 
amoureux, all of which were highly appre- 
ciated by the audience. In fact, it was as re- 
sponsive an audience as one often sees. Like 
Sir Roger de Coverly, they took the situations 
seriously and applauded where they approved, 
and talked over the scenes presented as though 
they were a part of real life. In fact all 
through the performance they discoursed with 
each other audibly. 

One novel feature was an intermission of ten 
or fifteen minutes when the performance was 
about half accomplished. At this time a man 
smoking a cigarette passed through the hall 
selling little favors done up in twisted papers 
and loudly bawling out an urgent invitation 
for people to buy. It was then that I noticed 
for the first time our blanchisseuse in clean 
blouse and apron, looking radiantly happy. 
Then, too, that there might be no cessation 
of entertainment, a ruddy-faced old rustic, 



At a French Chateau 75 

in clumsy wooden shoes, took it upon him- 
self to get merry and jump over one of the 
benches. A roar of laughter rewarded the 
old chap for his pains. The Chateau party 
ate French lemon drops and peppermints 
from paper bags, and breathed deeply of the 
fresh air that was then entering, for during 
the recess there was no objection to open doors 
and windows. 

The show lasted something over two 
hours. Even the franc-and-a-half people had 
had their money's worth. Disregarding the 
Cinema, the real enjoyment had come from 
seeing the peasant class at a show. That was 
a novel experience and worth the price. As I 
went out the door, the ticket-seller said to me, 
** C^est bon^ n'est-ce pas, Madame? '' 
And I answered, " Oui, Madame, ires 
amusant/^ using the same phrase that Madem- 
oiselle L. had used in speaking of Billie. 
This seemed to give such entire satisfaction 
that I couldn't help feeling quite a bit of pride 
in my proficiency in the French tongue. 

Outside we found the whole village silent 
and asleep, wrapped in opaque night. The 
streets are not lighted in Soisy-sous-Etiolles. 



76 At a French Chateau 

Not even the '^ long, levelled rule of stream- 
ing light " from " some clay habitation " v^as 
visible, for here the people use their lamps 
only when absolutely necessary. Too, it was 
raining, and the paved streets slippery. How 
Monsieur J. ever guided us back to the 
Chateau is a mystery, but in due time we 
arrived safe and sound. 



CHAPTER IX 
Day Dreams 

The time was drawing near when I must 
leave the delightful old Chateau. I sat one 
morning in a secluded spot in the park on one 
of the old Pompadour stone benches. Over- 
head arched a tall graceful tree, a chapel, as 
it were, to one of God's great cathedrals, the 
drowsy, shadowed, silent park. Behind me 
was the ivy-mantled stone wall, like a high 
screen of the most perfect tracery. A dreamy 
place, indeed; and I so far gave myself up 
to its subtle influence as to muse upon the 
evidences all about of a former life now 
passed from mortal ken. How much of it had 
been real and lasting, the work of God ; and 
how much of it false and fleeting, the vain 
imagination of mortal man? 

I had just come from the one-time stable, 
with its two quaint stalls, above which are the 

77 



78 At a French Chateau 

names Romeo and Brillant, incased in small 
wooden frames. " Two pet steeds of the long 
ago, perhaps," I muse; and, letting fancy 
have its free course, I behold two splendid 
bays, with arched necks, straight supple limbs, 
flowing manes and tails, fiery eyes. Richly 
caparisoned are they and mounted by le 
seigneur et la dame of other days. Gaily 
prancing, they make the tour of the Chateau 
park, emerging through the arch by the duck 
pond into the court. Then they dart through 
the iron gateway, swung open by the liveried 
porter, and take the road toward the Forest 
of Senart, there perhaps to give their riders a 
chance to admire the brilliant Madame Pom- 
padour in her fairy phaeton, or to get a fleet- 
ing glimpse of the royal sportsman and his 
train. 

Is the rider the tall man of the great paint- 
ing in heavy frame, which hangs in the petit 
salon, who stands as he has stood for many 
years, with hat and cane in hand, tall and 
straight, and grave? It would be difficult, in- 
deed, to imagine that stiff, dignified individual 
as gaily cantering through field and forest (his 
protrait represents him as too unbending for 



o 

o 

pi 
O 

H 

ft 
O 




At a French Chateau 79 

that). Rather must our Seigneur of the pic- 
ture tread the ways of his own beautiful park 
with slow, measured pace, standing for one 
brief moment to watch the gold fish in spark- 
ling fountain, but with gray unsmiling eyes, 
himself a shadow then as he is now. Is his 
name upon the tablet just inside the door? If 
so, which one is it? Or is his name missing on 
the slate, and he, perhaps, the refugee, whose 
name is lost and treasure hid? Or was the 
man of the portrait of older family, farther re- 
moved, perhaps one hundred years prior to the 
Revolution, who had lived and loved and 
passed on far anterior to the memory of the 
man who fled the fury of the Revolution days? 
And what of his companion? Does either 
of the fine portraits in the grand salon, the one 
of the dark lady or the one of the fair, in long 
straight bodice and fine laces, bear a re- 
semblance to her? Whose fingers fashioned 
the queer picture hanging on the opposite side 
of the room, a large bouquet of flowers, made 
apparently of long paper beads set on end in 
some glutinous substance, after the manner of 
a mosaic? And what about the old hob-nailed 
chest, that rests at the top of the first flight of 



8o At a French Chateau 

stairs, the trunk that I pass every time I go to 
or from my room, once used as a linen chest 
and bearing the initials, H. H. M. E. B.? 
Whose deft fingers neatly stitched the meters 
and meters of fine linen to fashion the gar- 
ments that were once considered so necessary 
a part of ma demoiselle's trousseau? 

And what about the little dog whose master 
placed a tablet in the park to perpetuate his 
memory, and asks the passerby to pause and 
behold the place where his pet sleeps. '^ Ce 
n'etait qu' un chien blanc '' (It was only a little 
white dog) he tells us, but he knows not where 
another such can be found, so brave, affec- 
tionate and good. And the great cedar, over- 
shadowing its resting place, a cedar of 
Lebanon, brought by the great French 
botanist. Monsieur de Jussieu, cradled in a hat 
as an infant many years ago, from far off 
Palestine. This one-time infant is now an 
aged man, but still blessing the earth with his 
shade and supporting on a strong arm la 
halanqoire for Rene and Eric as he no doubt 
did for the Chateau children of other days. 

The old stone basins, many in number, of the 
one-time magnificent fountains! Will their 



At a French Chateau 8i 

stagnant waters erelong be supplanted by the 
bright and sparkling? Will their fountains 
once again spurt up toward heaven, to fall in 
diamond drops on scores of glittering gold fish, 
that dart to and fro in the font? 

Why not? Love is there and love restores. 
Already a marvelous work has been done to- 
wards cleansing and beautifying the Chateau 
grounds, so sadly run down for want of care. 
We can confidently assert that never again will 
the place witness the pomp and splendor of its 
ancient pride; but what of that, if the beauty 
of holiness shall there rest, it is far better. 

Like Washington Irving, in the Shake- 
speare land, we have '^ been surrounded with 
fancied beings, with mere airy nothings," con- 
jured up by drowsy place and drowsy time. 
But awake we now, and henceforth 

We cease to look behind and look before. 
With hope and faith, the faith that maketh 

whole; 
The Chateau's better days are at the door, 
Vive le Chateau de Soisy under Etiolles! 



CHAPTER X 

The Departure 

It was with genuine regret that I left the 
Chateau. I had there spent ideal hours far 
from the herd of sight-seers that throng the 
city ways. I had been free to roam among 
rural haunts, taking my own time, following 
my own bent, experiencing the joy of mere 
living and keeping holiday in peace. I had 
found the old town charmingly picturesque, a 
fair type of the little French village. Mon- 
sieur and Madame had been most kind and 
had taken much pains to make my stay a happy 
one. I had become fond of the people — 
French, Swiss, Scotch, English, and American. 
I had met those that are worth while. I had 
come to love the children. I had seen things 
to me new and interesting. Incidentally I had 
acquired an addition to my French vocabulary. 
Moreover, the annual fete was about to take 

82 



\ 



I 



At a French Chateau 83 

place, the first preparation of which was the 
setting up of a merry-go-round. Vans dotted 
the country roads all around on the way to con- 
tribute their part toward the great occasion. 
Soon everybody would be out for a good time 
and a holiday. 

I must miss the fete, but I had already 
gained much. Best of all I had gained that for 
which I had come, something of a knowledge 
of peasant life, and an intimate acquaintance 
with the ideal French home. In addition, I 
had become somewhat acquainted with the 
Parisian French and admired them. 

" You cannot know French people by visit- 
ing Paris in summer," said Monsieur W. " In 
fact, there are no Parisians in the city during 
the hot weather; they have gone into the 
country. Then Paris is given up for the season 
to hotel keepers, shop keepers, and tourists; 
and the commercial spirit is dominant. You 
cannot see Paris in summer.'^ 

I could readily believe this. The dark, 
black-eyed, portly proprietor of my hotel in 
Paris, a short time before, had been most 
polite to me, even obsequious in his attentive- 
ness to my wants ; but when I came to settle my 



84 At a French Chateau 

bill, I learned a characteristic trick of the 
trade. When I had looked over my bill of 
one hundred and forty-five francs, I dis- 
covered that he had made one charge twice. 
When I called his attention to it, he drew his 
pencil through the item with a careless " so," 
as if it were almost too trivial a matter to speak 
of, though he was charging me five francs too 
much. It was the custom he told me for his 
guests to pay their tips through the ofiice, one- 
tenth of the bill. I acquiesced; it would be 
much less trouble. 

He reckoned it up, fourteen francs. ^' Call 
it fifteen," he said, " that will be quite all 
right," with the air of one who is generously 
throwing off instead of adding an extra franc. 

There was an illustration of the commercial 
spirit, which Monsieur W. had mentioned. 
Surely there could be no greater contrast than 
that between my hotel proprietor and our 
Paris friends who were spending the summer 
at Soisy-sous-Etiolles. A small party of us 
from the Chateau had one day been up to 
Etiolles. On returning we went past the 
home of the L. family. The young madem- 
oiselle's greetings to us from an upper window 



S^^^vviT^^^ 







KINDLY WISHED US AU REVOIR. 



At a French Chateau 85 

brought Madame to the doorway. Thereupon 
there was nothing to do but that we should 
come in to rest. Up a few steps to a landing- 
place, then down again as many, and we found 
ourselves in a trim garden. There under the 
shelter of un berceau de verdure (arbor) we 
must have refreshments (it was then time for 
afternoon tea) ; and then no blossom in the 
garden was too choice to be plucked to make 
up the generous bouquets for us to take home. 

On the day of my departure two American 
friends, Mr. F. and Mrs. W., traveling com- 
panions earlier in the season, came out from 
Paris to call. I was to go with them back 
to the great city for a short stay, and thence to 
Belgium and England for some automobile 
trips among the out-of-the-way places as far 
as possible from the beaten path. Yes, we 
were soon to leave the land of les poulets et les 
salades, for the land of many tea rooms and 
good Lipton tea. And — after that — America. 

I took my last look around with my friends. 
Together we roamed the shadowy alleys of 
the park, seeking out the familiar haunts : the 
steedless stalls, the aviary, the lavoir, the 
kiosque, the balangoire du cedre, the duck 



86 At a French Chateau 

pond, and the garden with its smell of plants 
and trees. While we were doing so, that the 
review might be complete, a biplane skimmed 
the air above the Chateau park as it had done 
almost every day during my stay. 

Then Madame W. joined us at tea in the 
salle a manger (we had come in too late to 
take our refection with the others). How I 
should miss the social meal, of which Mon- 
sieur was the autocrat, and where Madame 
presided so charmingly, with the quiet dignity 
characteristic of one ^" to the manner born." I 
had liked to hear her gentle and musical la, 
la! That is always heard in France, but it 
never to me sounded the same from other lips. 

" There is the great treasure chimney, of 
which I told you, if indeed the treasure is 
there," I said to my friends, pointing at the 
same time to the great fireplace. 

" It looks innocent enough," Mr. F. an- 
swered ; " but, then, you can't always tell by 
the face of a thing what is behind the face." 

" You are right," I said, " but the chimney 
is not the only thing about here that refuses to 
be communicative. The queer little houses 
that line the walls are not telling us all that 




QUITE AT HOME. 



At a French Chateau 87 

they know. Indeed, some of them are now 
little more than gray, sombre sentinels in stone, 
guarding the mystery of their past with jealous 
care." 

Tea over, we went out on the perron to wait 
for the bus that should take us to the station 
of Evry-Petit-Bourg. Madame W. went with 
us, and there kindly wished us '' au revoir/' 
and a '' bon voyage " to the homeland. 

But where, you ask, was Billie. O, no, he 
was not lost; he simply wanted to stay a few 
weeks longer at the Chateau. He would ar- 
range for a later sailing and, without fail, be 
back in America in time to enter school. 
About the last I saw of him he was hanging 
over the balancoire, limb of the old cedar, 
hectoring Mademoiselle Marjorie (who sat in 
the swing below) with a long dry twig. He 
had come to feel quite at home. 



